


Scattered Stardust

by Emls479



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bonding, Death, Found Family, Gen, Gladiator fighting, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Insomnia, Lotor backstory, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Pre-Kerberos Mission, Triggers, Trouble Sleeping, Unethical Experimentation, Voltron, all the generals are messed up, haggar is a bad mom, half galra, implied trauma, meeting the generals, no paladins, no ships, platonic bros, some blood and violence, zarkon is a bad dad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-15 08:12:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 9,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12317169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emls479/pseuds/Emls479
Summary: The eyes of the empire are everywhere. Every planet, every species, every organization is tracked. No one is safe from the eyes of the Galra.Least of all their exiled prince. Banished for unknown reasons, Lotor  is cast aside, left to the watchful eyes and controlling hands of his supervisors. In the vastness of the empire, he is just one small piece.But he's not alone.(This was originally posted on wattpad)





	1. Chapter 1

"It's time for you to leave."

Cold. Sharp. Straightforward. Haggar was never one for conversation, least of all with her son. 

He rose from the bed on which he had been sitting, a small bag of his belongings on his back. It was funny in a way. Even with all the resources and luxuries of the Galra empire at his fingertips, only a few items were making the trip to exile with him. 

Haggar turned and left the room, flanked by 2 of her druids. Lotor followed them to the doorway and paused. He took a last look back at his room. It might be years before he was back here again... if he ever returned at all. He spent a long moment, wanting to feel something. He wanted to feel sad, to remember happy memories and good times. But the room was cold, bare, and lifeless. He couldn't bring himself to miss it. 

A rolling meow around his ankles brought him back to reality. Kova, his thin black and orange cat, twisted around his legs. He fixed Lotor with a meaningful stare, reminding him that it was time to go. 

Lotor scooped the cat into his arms and closed the door behind him. 

He didn't look back again. 

Haggar and the druids were already a good distance down the hall. They didn't seem to notice or care that he had fallen behind. Probably because they didn't, Lotor reminded himself, hurrying to catch up. They walked in silence down the flagship's wide corridors. Commanders, lieutenants, privates and sentries all stopped and bowed as they passed. Despite their lowered heads and respectful salutes, Lotor caught more than one of them smirking at him as he passed.

He fought the urge to confront them.

That's not who you are anymore, he reminded himself. You have to earn their respect now. 

Kova seemed to know how he was feeling, and growled at everyone they passed. 

It seemed like they reached the hangar bay too soon. The druids waited by the entrance, their impervious pointed masks watching Lotor like predators. He squared his shoulders as he passed them, eyes forward and head up. Just like Haggar had always told him. 

She stood waiting for him beside a deep space cruiser. The thrusters were already humming with energy, ready to depart. As he approached, Haggar's eyes shifted toward Kova, now perched on his shoulder. 

"Leave the beast," she ordered. "You will not have time for such distractions anymore."

Lotor returned her hard stare.

"Kova stays with me. I will leave at your request, and train as hard as you command. But I am still the prince of the Galra. You would be wise not to command those above you, adviser."

He was met with a thin smile. 

"Spoken like an arrogant child who still has much to learn," she sneered. "I would suggest you refrain from showing such disrespect to your new crew. I've made certain they understand you are to receive no special treatment. So keep your precious pet if you must."

She pointed up the ship's gangplank with one clawed finger. Without responding, Lotor strode aboard, Kova swaying on his shoulder. Just before he closed the door, he heard Haggar speak one more time.

"Just remember that a prince is only as good as his followers. And believe me; you aren't worthy of anyone's obedience."

Then the door slammed, the ship launched, and they fell into the void of stardust and silence.


	2. 2 years later

Lotor's head slammed into the ground, black spots flashing across his vision. Before he could catch his breath, a booted foot pinned him down by the throat. 

Rosk fixed him with a condescending grin, fangs flashing. 

"You did much better this time princeling. I almost had to try!" he laughed, sword swung carelessly over his shoulder. He put a little more weight on Lotor's throat, cutting off his air. 

Lotor gave a small gasp, sweat from the fight running into his eyes. Rosk was waiting for him to yield. The thuggish Galra lieutenant always made pain last a little longer than necessary. And Lotor was his favorite target. The ship's crew all cheered Rosk on as he sneered, waiting for Lotor's surrender. 

The prince's strange eyes flashed. Rosk was putting too much weight on his left foot, leaving him unbalanced. As his lungs screamed for oxygen he saw an opening. In one fluid movement Lotor swiped his legs out in a smooth arc, knocking Rosk off balance. As he stumbled, surprised, Lotor surged to his feet, landing a solid blow in Rosk's stomach. His tall opponent bent double, wheezing as the air left his lungs. He looked up just in time to receive a furious punch to the face. In a matter of moments, Lotor stood over him, sword hanging inches from his face. 

The crew lining the walls of the training deck went quiet. They had all sparred with Lotor at some point and reached this same position. Rosk had been the last, and most fearsome of their number. Now he lay helpless on the floor. Lotor's final obstacle.

After a breathless moment, Rosk growled,

"I yield."

Lotor removed the blade and helped his opponent up, as was traditional. As they both stood and faced the spectators, something seemed to change. No one dared to look the prince in the eye. They had all been bested by him now. Every crew member had fought him and lost. And though many still glared at him because of crushed pride or scarred bodies, their stares now held an element of grudging respect. 

Lotor noted this as he nodded to Rosk and left the training deck. 

....................................................................................

"This extended travel is getting tiresome. Even my own crew can no longer teach me anything new about combat," Lotor drawled to his communicator. Haggar's face remained as cold and hard as ever as she replied,

"Arrogant as ever. You are surrounded by top Galra officers. They have years more experience and knowledge."

"They are predictable," Lotor snapped. "Trained animals that have no initiative or originality. They speak of tactics and strategy while only practicing their brute strength. You wanted a progress report? This is it. Give me a real challenge or else bring me back to headquarters."

"You are a fool if you think meager skill with a blade is enough to redeem you," Haggar hissed. "It is clear that your time in exile has done nothing but inflate your opinion of yourself. You think you have earned a place in the empire? I think it's time you see who your equals truly are."

The communicator deactivated, leaving Lotor alone in his room. He began to pace, thinking about what the witch had said. 

His equals? What did she mean by that? 

He stumbled against the wall as the ship turned sharply. What was this? He had not been informed of any change in course. Silently seething with frustration, he swept out of his room and to the bridge. 

"Why have we changed course captain?" he demanded, facing off with the much taller officer. 

"Orders from headquarters sir."

"And what is the destination?" 

"The gladiator ring aboard Commander Sendak's ship," the captain replied. 

"What? Why?"

"I was not given specifics sir. I only know that we are to be there by next movement. We are to receive additional instructions once we have arrived."

Lotor frowned as he thought about what this could mean. A visit to a gladiator ring? Was Haggar going to try and force him to fight for entertainment? Well if that was what she had in mind she would be sorely disappointed. A burn of indignation at the thought flickered in the back of his mind. 

He was nobody's plaything.


	3. Gladiator

A sickening crack echoed through the arena. The smaller slave fell limply to the ground, its many arms and broken body resembling a crushed insect. The victor, a long limbed blue creature stood shakily, looking at its bloody hands in numb surprise. The Galra spectators roared their approval. Sentries emerged from the arena edges and gestured at the limp body. The victor seemed to understand and began to drag it back toward the entrance. Splotches of maroon blood trailed behind the pair.  

Lotor watched it all, trying to distance his traitorous emotions. It was foolish to make the victor drag the body. Surely the sentries could have disposed of it more quickly. 

But as he observed the blue alien deposit the body near the cluster of gladiators, he realized it wasn't about efficiency. This was to prevent camaraderie between the slaves. To know that anyone you befriended could be dragging your corpse the next day would surely make trust a rare thing. 

Haggar sat silently beside him in the Emperor's box. Thankfully Zarkon had not accompanied her, so it was just the two of them. Lotor couldn't help glancing at his mother out of the corner of his eye as they awaited the next fight. She looked exactly the same, unchanged in any way from their two years apart. He knew the same could not be said of himself. He had grown taller and more muscular over his exile. His white hair had grown unruly, and he now had it tied back at the base of his neck. He was still far smaller than any of the officers on his ship, but more scarred and battle hardened than any 15 year old should have been. 

As the wait for the next fight stretched longer and longer, Lotor decided the break the silence. 

"I don't suppose you're planning on telling me why you've summoned me to such a place?" he asked, eyes on the bloodstained sand below. 

"Is this not to your liking?" Haggar questioned softly.

"I must admit I find little pleasure in watching slaves kill each other. Such pitiful creatures could be put to much better use in labor camps or ship yards. But you are avoiding my question. Why am I here?"

"To remind you of your place," Haggar said in the same measured voice. Lotor looked around sardonically at the lavish Emperor's box. They sat in comfort, isolated from all other spectators and officers. 

"Oh yes, this is certainly humbling," he quipped.

Haggar turned to face him for the first time, yellow eyes flashing dangerously. 

"You are only living in such comfort because I am allowing it. Do you know what your life would be without my protection?"

She pointed down into the arena, where the next gladiators were preparing to fight. Lotor's eyes narrowed as he examined the larger of the two slaves. It appeared to be a Galra female with large wing-like ears. But something about her was... off. Not quite right. Her fur was adorned with splotches of color above the eyes and on her forehead. 3 spikes adorned each of her forearms, something Lotor had never seen on any... on any pureblood Galra. 

"This is what half breeds are in the eyes of the empire," Haggar told him. Below the slaves began their vicious fight. There were no pretty moves, no feints, no tricks. It was a brutal contest of might and the will to survive. 

"So there are others," Lotor breathed, eyes following the girl. 

"Other mistakes, half breeds, and abominations," Haggar agreed. "This is just one of the many unpleasant fates your kind shares. No Galra hybrid would be accepted by either of their races."

She turned away from him, eyes following the brawl below. 

"Remember this any time you get ideas above your station. Because the only thing you deserve," she pointed down as the Galra half breed broke the neck of her opponent, "is to live and die as an outcast."


	4. Zethrid

"Captain, prepare the ship for launch upon my return," Lotor instructed. "I will be bringing an additional crew member on orders from Haggar."

The Galra looked at him quizzically. 

"Sir... we have not been informed of any such-"

His sentence faltered as Lotor fixed him with a hard stare. 

"Prepare the ship," he repeated, sweeping away down the ship's corridor. His mind spun as he navigated the dimly lit hallways. He wasn't sure why he needed to meet this hybrid. She was dangerous, unpredictable, probably nearly feral. But he knew he couldn't leave her here. 

Lotor made a right turn, trying to remember the layout of gladiator ships. He had been aboard them many times in his youth. And due to his discomfort at watching the fights, he had become well antiquated with the branching passageways. He was sure he was in the cell block now. The rows of identical reinforced doors were a dead giveaway. But how would he know which cell he needed?

Two sentries turned down the hall ahead of him, weapons held at the ready. Lotor stepped in front of them, hoping Haggar hadn't altered his records of authority. 

"I need to find a prisoner," he stated. "The victor of the last fight, a female Galra hybrid."

The sentries stood for a long moment. Their impassive metal faces were impossible to read. Lotor's hands began to sweat traitorously as the silence stretched longer and longer. Were they sending alerts to headquarters right now? They wouldn't dare attack him would they? Surely he hadn't been demoted that far. 

"Prisoner 33VX9 is contained in cell 65C." They finally responded in unison.

"Take me there," he ordered, breathing a sigh of relief. 

He followed the metal guards down a few more hallways, finally stopping in front of a locked door. 

"Is she restrained?" Lotor asked, hesitating in front of the control panel. 

"Prisoner 33VX9 is restrained," the sentries agreed. 

"Wait outside. Tell no one I am inside and do not enter unless I command it," he instructed. 

Lotor pressed his hand to the control panel. The door slid open and he stepped into the dimly lit cell. A musty smell of dried blood and dusty fur filled his nose as his eyes adjusted to the scene. 

The large female looked up as he entered, startled. She had been sitting with her back against the wall, but now jumped to her feet. Lotor tried to keep is breathing steady as he realized how much bigger she was than him. Her large ears nearly brushed the ceiling. A low growl rolled from behind her bared teeth as she sized him up. For the first time he also noticed a long jagged scar that ran over her left eye. Lotor couldn't help feeling grateful for the sturdy cuffs keeping her bloodstained hands bound. 

Fighting the urge to appear large and dominant, Lotor sat on the cold metal floor. 

The Galra stopped growling, obviously surprised. 

"Hello. I am sorry to burst in on you unannounced. My name is prince Lotor. What's yours?"

Instead of relaxing, this seemed to make the prisoner more tense than ever. Her hands clenched into fists and her eyes darted around the small room. 

"I'm not here to hurt you," he said soothingly. "In fact, if you're willing, I'm here to free you."

This seemed to do the trick. Her shoulders relaxed in shock and the snarl was replaced with a look of confusion. 

"Why?" she asked, finally speaking in a hoarse voice. 

"Because I feel we understand one another."

She snorted. 

"You think you know what my life is like prince?" 

But she stopped abruptly, looking worried she had gone too far. 

"It's alright," Lotor assured her. "I'm sure I don't know everything you've been through. You have a right to think so."

Still looking uneasy, she sank to the ground as well. For a long moment they simply stared at each other. Lotor noticed several other small differences that set her apart from other Galra. Her eyes were a deep golden color, not glowing yellow. The insides of her large ears were a deep shade of pink, though dust and grime had dirtied the colors of her fur. 

"I saw you fight today. Your strength is very impressive." 

Her eyes narrowed. 

"Enjoy the show?" she asked coldly. 

"Not particularly. It seems to me like your talents are being wasted on barbaric entertainment. This is why I would like to offer you a place on my crew."

"I don't know anything about spaceships," she growled. "Only time I've ever been on one was when I came here."

"Well I think we can work on that. And besides, there's more to do on a ship than just flying it. I'm going to need soldiers like you to help put the Galra in their place."

Genuine shock flitted across her face at these words, followed quickly by a look of fear. 

"This is a trick isn't it? I've been doing too well in the ring and now you're looking for a way to execute me for treason. It won't work!"

"No tricks," Lotor promised, hands up soothingly. "You and I have more in common than you might think. We both have reason to hate the empire. We're both skilled at fighting those who doubt us. And-" he looked up meaningfully, "we're both only half Galra."

Silence filled the tiny cell. 

"I've never met another half breed," she said quietly.

"Nor I," Lotor admitted. "It seems the empire is not overly proud of any of us. It would seem that they bring us low, isolate, and underestimate us."

He stood up.

"Their mistake."

The female stood up as well, towering over him once more. 

"You're not lying? You really want me to join you?"

"I will never lie to you. Come. We're going to have to stick together from now on."

He extended his hand toward her massive paws. She did the same, allowing him to unlock her shackles. 

"I never did hear your name," he commented, dropping her bonds to the floor. 

Rubbing her wrists, a small grin breaking over her face, she replied,

"Zethrid."


	5. Adjustments

"What is our next destination captain?" Lotor asked, standing beside him on the bridge. 

"The asteroid belt of Nothiden," he replied shortly. 

Lotor glanced at him suspiciously. The crew had been acting differently ever since Zethrid had entered the ship. None of them had been directly confrontational, but he was meeting more resistance on his orders now. Perhaps they just needed more time to adjust to her. 

"Will I be training in my fighter once we arrive?" he asked, deciding not to push the issue. 

The captain nodded curtly. 

Lotor looked thoughtfully over the bridge as the captain moved away, giving orders to one of the pilots. This was not a large crew. His captain, a few pilots and mechanics, a dozen sentries, and a scattering of combat officers. If their lackluster performance continued...

"I think I have an idea captain," Lotor announced. 

The Galra looked up, annoyance and curiosity fighting for dominance in his expression. 

"Once we reach Nothiden I would like to pilot a standard Galra fighter, not my usual ship."

"But... Haggar has given orders that-"

"If I am to become the best pilot I can be then I must learn to fly in more ships than one. And don't worry about the witch. I'm not asking to fly this cruiser am I? If anything a  Galra fighter is less powerful than my usual ship. There is no harm in this."

Still looking confused, the captain nodded. 

Lotor left the bridge, head swarming with new ideas. 

.............................................................................

"Are you sure this is safe?" Zethrid asked nervously, eyeing the small Galra fighter. "It might be better if you try it out alone... for your first time." 

"Zethrid are you scared of flying?" Lotor teased, locking his helmet in place. 

"No!" she insisted, squaring her shoulders. 

"Then come on. I'll show you how to work the guns on this. If your shooting is anything like it is in training, then you'll be a natural."

He climbed aboard the angular ship, settling into the cockpit. After a long moment, he heard Zethrid climbing into the back gunner position. The top of the ship sealed over them. For a moment everything was dark. Then red lights flashed to life, illuminating the pilot controls and targeting equipment. 

"Alright, let's see what we've got here," Lotor murmured, looking over the controls. It was a similar setup to his usual fighter. However there was less visibility and the handles felt large and awkward in his hands. It should all start clicking once he was out and flying though. 

"Ready Zethrid?"

"Um... I changed my mind. I want to get out!"

"Too late!" he laughed, gunning the ship's thrusters into action. The fighter rocketed out of the hangar. He jerked the left handle and they spun sideways. An excited giddy rush filled Lotor as they sling-shotted around his cruiser. This fighter could move!

"I want to go back!" Zethrid cried from behind him. 

"We're just getting started! Here, get ready to fire. We're going into the asteroids."

He gunned toward the field of floating space debris. 

"Open fire whenever you want. Get a feel for the controls."

He swooped beneath a large chunk of rock, barely getting out of the way before another smashed into it. Shrapnel from the collision hissed across the metal skin of the ship. A swarm of fist sized rocks hung around them now. 

"Perfect testing grounds. Fire at them Zethrid!"

No response. 

"Zethrid?" Lotor asked, slowing the fighter to a crawl. "Are you having trouble with the controls?"

Still nothing. Lotor killed the engines a moment later, worry starting to creep through him. In the now silent craft, he could hear Zethrid breathing heavily. 

"Let me out let me out let me out let me out," she whispered. Lotor craned around in his seat to see her. She was curled over in her seat, hands pressed to her forehead, rocking slightly. 

"Are... Are you-"

"LET ME OUT RIGHT NOW!" she howled, claws digging into her skin. 

Panicked at her response, Lotor headed straight for the hangar. Guilt began to build in his stomach as they approached. He hadn't considered Zethrid's fear to be genuine.  Everyone was a little nervous their first time flying. 

But as he listened to her shallow panicked breaths, he knew this was something more. 

Zethrid stumbled out of the ship the moment the top opened. Lotor hopped down beside her as she leaned against the hangar wall, visibly trembling. 

"Are you alright? Do you need to go to the medic? I'm sure they-"

"JUST LEAVE ME ALONE," she exploded, storming from the hangar. Lotor stood alone in the room, suddenly very small and alone.


	6. Paradigm shift

Lotor hovered uncertainly outside of Zethrid's door. It had been hours since their disastrous flight, but he still couldn't tell if it was enough time for her to calm down. He sighed in frustration. He didn't know enough about her in general. What was it that had set her off? The motion? The enclosed space? The pressure to perform? 

The fact that she had missed dinner was the most disturbing. Ever since her release Zethrid had eaten everything she could get her hands on. It was clear that whatever she had been getting as a gladiator had not been enough. Surely she was getting hungry by now. 

Gritting his teeth and making up his mind, Lotor knocked on the metal door. 

A muffled scuffing came from the other side. Then a long silence. 

"Zethrid? It's Lotor."

He paused for a moment. He desperately wanted to go in, find out what was making her so upset. But he reminded himself of how important she was. The only other Galra hybrid he had ever met. The only person he knew understood what that was like. He couldn't afford to lose her. 

"I understand if you don't want to tell me what's going on. There's still many things I don't understand about your life. You have a right to keep your secrets but... if you ever need to talk about anything, I want to hear it."

Fighting his impulse to push the matter further, he stepped back from the door and placed a small box of ship rations on the floor. 

"I've left you some rations outside the door."

The silence from the room continued. Welling with disappointment and shame, Lotor turned away. 

"Good night Zethrid."

........................................................................

Things changed after that. Though they never discussed the fighter incident again, Zethrid became more open to him. She began to come to meals again and talked more freely. She grew fierce and confident in their sparring. The stiffness of survival instinct began to fade as she began to channel her immense strength into battle tactics and strategy. 

Lotor was impressed and happy at this change. 

The crew was not. 

It started off subtly. Lingering glares from crewmembers followed the 2 of them everywhere. Where the crew was once satisfied to accept direct orders from Lotor, they now challenged him at every turn. Both his flight and battle training were becoming more and more difficult as his instructors stacked the odds against him. Many conversations between the crew cut off abruptly when he entered a room theses days. 

"Eh don't let it get to you," Zethrid advised, scratching Kova behind the ears. They were sitting in the hangar bay, one of the only deserted places on the ship. The cat had taken quite a liking to Zethrid. He lay curled on her lap as they talked, tail twitching lazily. 

"I just don't understand why they think they can be so disrespectful now," Lotor fumed. 

Zethrid snorted. 

"You haven't seen anything if you think this is bad. I've never been treated so well in my life!"

"But I heard Rosk call you a mutt yesterday!"

She shrugged.

"Like I said, could be worse. We've got it pretty good."

Lotor frowned, eyes wandering out over the vacant ships. They were all technically his. This cruiser was his. But he held almost no power over anything. Haggar could order the crew to do anything and they would do it. None of them had any loyalty to him. 

His eyes turned back to Zethrid, now dangling a treat in front of Kova. She was loyal. He'd saved her from the gladiator ring and given her a chance to prove herself. She had. She pushed herself harder than anyone here. What if... what if there were others like her?

An idea began to blossom in his mind.


	7. Plygar

A few days later they docked at Plygar outpost, a forest moon. The cruiser's powerful thrusters rippled the swaying plants like water as they landed. Strange flying creatures took to the sky in fright, swirling away from the settling ship. 

The captain sought Lotor out as preparations for ship maintenance and refueling began. He found the prince sitting in his room sharpening his dueling sword. 

"Sir, I've been asked to inform you that you will not be permitted outside the ship at this outpost."

Lotor waved him aside carelessly.

"Yes yes I understand."

"I will be posting sentries outside your door to confirm your whereabouts," the captain continued, slightly taken aback at the lack of resistance.

"Is that everything captain?"

"Yes."

"Well then off with you. Enjoy the break. Do we have an estimated time of departure?"

"We should be ready to leave within 4 vargas."

Lotor nodded his understanding and the captain left. And sure enough, he heard the distinctive metal footfalls of a pair of sentries position themselves outside his door. He sighed, stowing his sword in its sheath. 

This was not unexpected, but not helpful either. Tapping the small communicator on his wrist Lotor muttered,

"Seems like I'm going to have to sit this one out. The captain's posted a pair of bodyguards on me and told me not to leave the ship. You've got 4 vargas to scout out the area."

"By myself?" Zethrid's indignant voice responded. 

"You'll do fine. This is a colonial moon. They should be used to travelers of all sorts. Just act like you belong here and no one will question you."

She growled in annoyance. 

"How do you know I'll even be able to find another half breed here?"

"I don't. But we have to start somewhere. Now get going! I don't know how long the crew is going to be gone."

.....................................................................

Zethrid was not made for hot weather. She decided that immediately after stepping out of the ship's cool dry shell and into the thick humidity of the moon Plygar. Her fur felt damp and soggy and she could already feel sweat gathering in her palms. Insects swarmed through the air, their buzzing almost deafening to her sensitive ears. 

Gritting her teeth, she soldiered through the hot thick air. 

The outpost landing pad was buzzing with activity. Mechanics of many different species flitted around the Galra ships, repairing, replacing, and refueling. Officers strode back and forth from ships and buildings, barely deigning to look at those who serviced their ships. Zethrid hoped she was blending in as she headed for the edge of the military outpost. If Lotor was right, there should be a huge marketplace just beyond.

Her wrist communicator buzzed. 

"Any problems?" Lotor's voice asked. 

"Just this heat," Zethrid complained, tugging at the collar of her outfit as she went. "Why would any Galra, even a half breed, want to live here?"

"It's not a question of what they want. Where they end up is where they end up. I'd wager that a few hybrids have been through this moon. It's a cultural hub."

"Yeah well I hope I find one soon. The sooner we leave the better."

She trudged onward, sun pelting down relentlessly. It seemed to take ages, but she finally reached the edge of the compound. Pausing to catch her breath in the thick warm air, she looked beyond the outer wall. 

Sure enough. A bustling marketplace stretched for miles among the thick trees. Shops, booths, tents and houses lay nestled in thick tangles of forest. Splotches of color from the wood and fabric stood out against the shades of green. Aliens of all shapes and sizes wove between structures like a living river. 

Suddenly the possibility of meeting another half breed didn't seem as remote. 

"Well? Do you see anything?" Lotor's impatient voice chimed in.

"Yeah. A market, just like you said. There's thousands of aliens though."

"Just get started. We've already used up half a varga."


	8. Lost Time

It only took a few dobasches for Zethrid to get hopelessly lost. The muffling heat combined with the chaotic swirl of the marketplace to create a spinning suffocating maze. For awhile she didn't think about it. There was enough to look at without worrying about where she was. She still had at least 3 vargas left to return to the ship. 

And in the meantime there was plenty to see. 

Tinkling chimes swung high above the vendors, their music combining with the strange chirping songs of the flying creatures hiding in the greenery. Wafts of cooking meat and vegetables floated through the humid air. A thousand different languages and dialects were being jabbered back and forth between vendors and customers. Zethrid caught enough to gather that haggling was the primary pastime of Plygar natives. 

She pressed on through the crowd, eyes roving the passing aliens and nose working to distinguish a mixed Galra scent. But the sheer size of the crowd was overwhelming. She caught snatches of Galra only to turn and find a pure blood reclining against their balcony. Regular Galra civilians were common enough here that it was hard to distinguish between racial variations. And looking at the passing aliens was little help either. A hybrid could look like anything! 

Her frustration grew as the novelty of the marketplace faded. It was hot and muggy and crowded. People shoved past her on all sides, apparently not intimidated by her size or race here. Bugs continued to swarm over the crowd, buzzing annoyingly.

She snarled in annoyance, finally ducking into a side alley for some privacy. 

"There's too many people here," she growled into her communicator, swatting a bug as it landed on her. "I can't find anything in this mess."

There was no response from Lotor. 

"Lotor? Are you there?" 

A faint crackle of static was the only reply. 

"Whatever," she muttered, lowering her hand and trying to wipe off some of the sweat. She would just have to make her way back to the ship and they could try again another time. And really, she thought, stepping  back out of the alley, what were the odds of just running into another half breed?

..................................................................................

Half a varga left. 

Zethrid was starting to get skittish as the time dwindled away. She had headed back down the path but couldn't even see the compound walls anymore. The thick trees were blocking everything that wasn't immediately in front of her. Surely the ship wouldn't leave without her. Would they?

Her stomach clenched at the thought of being left on this hot unfamiliar planet. Lotor had gone to the effort to save her from the arena; he wouldn't leave her behind. But the crew would. Without hesitation. 

A small feeling of panic began to blossom as she quickened her pace. She had to get back. 

The communicator crackled uselessly on her wrist. 

The aliens she asked for directions were no help either. One would tell her one direction, but the next would be completely different. She got the distinct feeling she was going in circles, getting further away from the ship with every moment. Her eyes stung from the bright sun and she felt deafened by the constant flood of chatter. This was a mistake! 

A light tap fell on her arm.

Zethrid looked down, annoyed at being touched. 

A colorful, smooth skinned girl met her eyes. A single long tendril stretched over her head and down her back. It almost looked like a ponytail. 

"Hi there! Are you lost?" she asked sweetly. 

"Yes," Zethrid admitted. "Do you know where I can find the refueling outpost for ships?"

"Sure do!" she grinned, flashing a pair of white fangs. 

"Where?"

"I can take you there if you want," she offered. "I know a shortcut."

Zethrid nodded and the girl beamed. 

"Follow me!" 

She darted away through the crowd. Zethrid hurried to keep up with the nimble alien. Luckily her bright orangey-pink skin and colorful markings made her easy to see. They raced down the packed street, her guide slipping easily through gaps in the crowd, Zethrid simply pushing obstacles aside. 

"This way!" she chimed, sliding down a side alley. 

Zethrid followed her. It was quieter and darker here, with cloth awnings filtering out the harsh sunlight overhead. Zethrid slowed as she entered the space, trying to catch her breath. She looked around for her guide in the narrow alley. Nothing. 

"Are you here?" she called, a creeping feeling of unease starting to build. 

An invisible force suddenly hooked one of her feet. Too startled to defend herself, Zethrid fell flat on her back, head knocking into the dirty ground. She blinked away the pain and tried to push herself up again. 

But a weight descended on her chest, blocking her attempts to sit up in the small alley. A moment later the colorful alien materialized out of thin air, her blue and yellow eyes sly and playful.

"Whoopsie," she giggled. "You need to be more careful about following strangers. Didn't anyone tell you that?"

"Get off me," Zethrid growled through clenched teeth. 

"But I want payment for my hard work," she pouted, hands swooping down to Zethrid's belt. She pulled out her long dagger, eyes sparkling. 

"Oooo! This is pretty," she admired. "Might be worth taking you the rest of the way to the outpost."

"Give it back," Zethrid hissed, a dangerous rage building inside of her. 

"Or what?" the girl teased, holding the knife up to her face to admire her reflection. 

"I'll-"

She stopped abruptly, nose twitching. It was unmistakable now that they were away from the crowd. This girl had a Galra scent to her. Zethrid thought fast. She still needed to get to the ship, and this girl seemed to know the way. She could knock her out now... but might end up stranded on this planet. Thinking fast Zethrid said,

"If you get me to my ship I can pay you 5,000 gac."

This did not seem to be what the half Galra was expecting. Her mouth dropped open slightly in surprise and her eyes widened. But a moment later she narrowed her eyes suspiciously. 

"Wait a minute. How do I know you can pay that much? Whose ship are you with?"

Not being able to think of a good lie, she replied, "Prince Lotor's cruiser."

"Hm... No way. No one has seen him here in years. But I did hear there was a Galra cruiser coming in for maintenance today."

"That's him!"

"Sure it is. You know what, I'm going to keep this knife, but I'll take you to the outpost anyway. If nothing else I want to see this cruiser everyone's been talking about."

She got off of Zethrid, allowing her to pull herself to her feet. 

"Come on then. Let this be a lesson to you to be more careful in the future fluffy."

She darted out of the alley, followed by a fuming and revenge minded Zethrid. A few dobasches later the outpost walls emerged over the trees. Zethrid checked her watch nervously. Not long left before the ship was supposed to leave. She followed her colorful guide all the way to the edge of the landing pad. There they stopped huddled by the treeline.

"So where's this prince of yours?" she asked, eyes scanning the ships. 

"His ship is right over... there," Zethrid snarled, grabbing hold of the smaller girl. She began writhing like an angry eel. Zethrid gripped harder, fighting her old gladiator instincts to grab the head and yank. Instead she maneuvered the girl into a choke hold, strong arms pressed tight against her throat. She struggled fiercely, clawed hands raking at Zethrid's arms and hands. her breaths were shallow and choked. It was long time before she finally went limp, eyes half open. 

Zethrid slung the girl over her shoulder and hurried toward the cruiser, desperately hoping no one was watching. They flew inside and she raced to her room. The crew couldn't know about the newcomer until they were back into space.

She dumped the limp alien unceremoniously onto her bed and shut the door, panting in the cool clean air of the ship. 

Lotor is not going to be happy about this she thought wryly, eyes on the unconscious hybrid.


	9. Prisoners

Lotor paced his room nervously. His communicator had stopped working shortly after Zethrid had entered the market and had been unresponsive ever since. The ship was revving up for departure and he didn't even know if she had made it back! The sentries were still outside his door though. He didn't want to leave now to check her room. If they followed him and found out that she was missing...

He'd just have to wait until they had left and hope she had been able to return in time. 

Kova looked at Lotor curiously as he continued to pace. Seeming to sense his mood, the cat hopped off his bed and curled around his legs. Lotor stopped and took a deep breath.

This situation wasn't under his control. He had to calm down and wait for the pieces to settle. He reached down and scratched Kova's ears, trying to reassure himself. Zethrid was very capable. Surely she had been able to return to the ship in time. Her ship issued communicator would have prevented anyone from stopping her. 

And if she did get left behind then he would hijack a fighter and go back for her. 

He settled onto the floor, taking deep breaths. Kova climbed into his lap, purring happily. They sat like that until he felt the ship take off and heard the sentries wander away to other duties. 

Lotor stood, Kova climbing up to rest on his shoulder. He took a moment to compose himself before leaving the room. As far as the crew knew, nothing had happened. Best to keep it that way. 

He set off toward Zethrid's room taking calm measured steps. Nobody passed him. They were presumably all eating their evening meal after their day out. Despite his worry, Lotor couldn't help feeling a pang of bitterness. He might be exiled, but he was starting to feel like a prisoner. He quickly put the thought out of his head as he approached Zethrid's closed door. After taking a moment to make sure the surrounding area was empty, he knocked. 

The door slid open. Before he could say anything, one of Zethrid's large hands grabbed the front of his outfit and yanked him inside. He stumbled, confusion and relief surging through him in equal measure. 

"You're alright! What happened down-" he started, losing the sentence as he saw Zethrid's sheepish face. 

"Um... well I have good news and bad news," she laughed nervously, hands fidgeting. 

A sense of deep unease came over Lotor. 

"Let's hear the good news first," he prompted. 

"Well... I, uh, managed to find another Galra hybrid."

Lotor's eyes widened in surprise, but he waited for the inevitable bad news to follow. Zethrid hesitated to give it though, feet shuffling and ears twitching. 

"And? What's the bad news?"

"I kind of knocked her out and brought her here against her will," she blurted out  in a single breath.

"You did what?" he yelped. His eyes roved the dimly lit room, falling on a covered lump on her bed. He rushed over and lifted a corner of the thin blanket.  

Sure enough, an unfamiliar alien lay curled on the bed. She was tall and slender with smooth pink skin. Large blue and yellow markings arched across her forehead, which was topped with a long colorful tendril. He could see her Galra heritage through the pointed ears, clawed fingers and lanky body. Her eyes twitched fitfully beneath her lids. 

"I'm sorry okay!" Zethrid whispered. "I was lost and she said she'd show me the way back. Then the little klandersnite jumped me in the alley and tried to take my knife. I smelled the Galra in her and just... I panicked okay? But I found her and she's here, so that's gotta be good for something."

Lotor put the blanket back over the unconscious girl and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

"Zethrid... The whole point of recruiting hybrids was to earn their loyalty. Form a team of people who understood each other! Kidnapping is not the best way to go about that."

He heaved a deep sigh. 

"Well we're going to have to break it to the crew. The sentries are always sweeping the area so they're bound to see her eventually. I'm not sure how I'll explain this one."

At this, Zethrid's ears perked up.

"Oh yeah. There's something I forgot to tell you about this one."

A sly grin spread across her face.

"She can turn invisible."


	10. Ezor

Ezor stirred in bed. She stretched hugely, eyes squeezed shut so the sunlight would leave her alone for a few more ticks. A blanket hindered her movements slightly. That was odd. She didn't remember getting a blanket last night. She didn't remember... going to bed last night. 

Her eyes snapped open as she sat bolt upright. A flash of black and orange fur flew off of her, spitting indignantly. She looked around, panicked and disoriented. A moment later her head exploded with stabbing waves of pain. She whimpered, eyes watering and vision distorted. 2 figures were closing in on her.

She scrambled off the bed and fell onto the floor. 

"What are you doing? Where am I?" she groaned clutching her head.

"Stay back for now," one of the figures said quietly to the other. The smaller of the 2 approached, coming into focus as Ezor steadied herself. 

He was a teenager, probably not much older than she was. He had purple skin, pointed ears and thick white hair tied back into a small ponytail. A Galra soldier. 

"Stay away from me," she snarled, still scooting away from the approaching boy. A moment later her back hit the cold metal wall.

But to her surprise, he stopped in his tracks. Ezor fought to regain control of herself, eyes fixed on the Galra. Since he made no other move towards her, she looked behind him at his companion. She recognized her instantly. 

"You!" she accused, struggling to her feet. "You're the one that attacked me!"

"Look who's talking," the large furry alien replied scornfully. 

"You knocked me out and brought me here," Ezor seethed, eyes flying around the small metal room. 

"Only after you pinned me down and stole my knife!" her captor retorted. 

The Galra boy stepped between them, hands outstretched. 

"Stop," he said quietly. There was a quiet authority to his voice that made both girls fall silent. "Zethrid, would you please go get some rations for the 3 of us?"

The large alien complied, shooting a nasty glare at Ezor on her way out the door. A fluttering feeling of panic gripped Ezor as the Galra boy turned to look at her. She was completely alone. No one knew she was here. He could do whatever he wanted and there would be no one to stop him. She folded her arms defensively and backed against the wall.

"It's okay," he soothed, retreating a couple steps backward. "I'm not going to hurt you."

A high hysterical laugh escaped her. 

"Sure you're not! You just had your big friend come and kidnap me for kicks and giggles right? That's what the Galra love! Fun and games!" 

She was babbling and she knew it. The pounding headache was getting the best of her and the cold metal sending shivers down her back wasn't helping. The strange Galra seemed to notice her trembling frame. 

"Are you cold?" he asked.

Ezor glared at him. She was freezing, but she was not about to let some soldier know that. The silence between them stretched painfully long. A brush of movement against her ankles made Ezor jump a moment later. 

A strange furry animal was winding between her legs, making a low rumbling sound. 

"Looks like Kova likes you," the boy smiled. "That's a pretty high compliment."

Ezor looked down at the furry creature, her headache starting to fade a little. 

"What... is it?" she asked. 

"Truthfully I don't know. My... mother always referred to him as a 'cat' but I've never run across another like him anywhere else."

He sat down suddenly on the hard metal floor, startling her. He fixed her with a steady stare. She felt a twinge of confusion looking into his eyes. They were angular and yellow but... those blue irises were not something she had ever seen in a Galra before. He began to speak, an edge of vulnerability creeping into his voice.

"Listen, I need to be honest with you. My name is prince Lotor and I am half Galra, just like you."

Her eyes widened at this revelation. So the big one hadn't been lying. She really did serve on Lotor's ship. She saw the boy in a new light now, his strange differences from other Galra suddenly making sense.

"Zethrid, the one who brought you here, is a hybrid as well. I sent her to scout Plygar to see if we could find any others like us. And as fate would have it, you found her."

He let out a long breath.

"I never intended for Zethrid to bring you here like this. I was hoping that I could meet people like you and earn your trust. But... what's done is done. You'll have to stay with us at least until we reach another inhabited planet."

Ezor, who had been listening with increasing interest, cocked her head. 

"Wait. You mean you can't take me back? I thought this was your ship?"

Lotor sighed and shook his head. 

"In name only. I don't know how much the empire has been told of me. But I have been exiled from the main ruling force for now. This ship is mine, but the crew answers only to headquarters. They do not know you are here and it would be unwise to tell them."

"So... I'm stuck." Ezor reasoned flatly. Lotor grimaced in agreement. 

She groaned, sliding to the floor. Prefect. Just what she needed. To be trapped on a spaceship with an exiled prince, his musclebound bodyguard, and a crew of Galra soldiers. 

"Perhaps we could send a message to Plygar however," the prince told her hopefully. "You could let your family know you are safe."

"No," Ezor grumbled, folding her arms over her knees. "There's no one I want to talk to."

Lotor didn't press the matter. They sat in silence until Zethrid returned, several ration bars held in her arms. Ezor chewed on one morosely. It tasted like hard dry meat. 

"So what am I supposed to do?" She asked, breaking the awkward silence of their shared meal. 

"Well Zethrid tells me you have the ability to conceal yourself. You can stay in here and hide whenever patrols come through. I can let you know when we're approaching a safe planet and then... I suppose you'll have to find your way home from there."

"Perfect. Thanks a lot," she said bitterly, eyes on Zethrid.


	11. Hidden Talent

Getting used to Ezor wasn't easy. Lotor had hoped that she would either decide to join him and Zethrid, or else quietly hide out until they reached a safe planet. 

She decided to have a little fun instead. 

It started out small. Items began to disappear throughout the ship; Data pads, polishing equipment, eating utensils, and so on. The first time Lotor noticed something go missing he immediately had a suspect. But the crew was growing more and more irritated at the mystery thief. 

Most evenings Ezor would meet Lotor and Zethrid in the hangar. She never said anything about her daytime activities, but smirked every time they brought up the recent thefts. 

"What's wrong? You pretty boys can't keep track of your things?" she giggled, flipping a coin over her fingers. Zethrid ground her teeth angrily. She was the prime suspect of the crew, and as such had been facing even more hardship than usual. Lotor elected to ignore this behavior for the time being. It was their fault that Ezor was here in the first place, and she hadn't done anything directly harmful yet. His mind changed however the following morning. 

He was sitting in the dining hall with Zethrid and a few other early risers. Without warning Rosk burst into the room, angry as a wet Vrakadin. It took no time for everyone to see what had spun him into a rage. All of the thick dark fur covering his face, ears, and neck had been shaved down to a pale stubble. He looked shrunken and wrinkly. 

"WHO DID THIS?" he howled, wild eyes scanning the room. He looked like a deranged bald goblin. It was so strange it was comical. Zethrid seemed to think so too and couldn't resist a snort of laughter. 

That proved to be a mistake. Rosk's eyes fell on her and his face contorted with rage. 

"YOU! YOU'RE GOING TO PAY FOR THIS," he swore, lunging toward her. Lotor's keen eyes caught a glint of metal as his hand rose. Before he could react, Zethrid rose and spun Rosk to the ground. His hand, now clearly gripping a knife, lay pinned behind his back at a painful angle. He shuddered and thrashed in rage. But Zethrid was too strong. She leaned over him, eyes narrowed in dangerous anger. 

"I didn't do this to you," she announced, loudly enough that everyone could hear. "I don't need to shave you to make you look weak. You do that fine on your own."

She stood up, brushing off her clothes with obvious disdain. Lotor hid a laugh with a small cough and continued with his breakfast. After a moment Rosk got to his feet. Still shaking in fury but now clutching his arm, he shouldered his way out the door. 

Zethrid took her place beside Lotor once more, her breathing heavy and angry. 

"I hope that pink thing is ready for a piece of my mind tonight," she growled. 

.....................................................................

Ezor was waiting in the ship hangar that evening, legs dangling over the edge of a dormant fighter. She wiggled her long fingers in a cheery wave.

"Anything exciting happen today?" she asked innocently. Zethrid's furious swing at her was more than enough of an answer. The punch never made contact however. Ezor swung nimbly out of reach and then balanced gracefully on top of the ship. 

"Zethrid leave her alone," Lotor sighed, closing the door behind him and sitting down wearily. "But this has gone too far Ezor."

Dropping the act, the nimble girl swung down from the ship, eyes dancing. 

"Was it funny? Was he just furious?"

"Yes, you definitely struck a nerve this time," Lotor agreed grimly. "But this can't last. We're already on thin ice with the crew as it is. If these thefts and pranks continue, we're going to end up back at my father's feet." 

His gaze darkened. 

"And trust me, that's not somewhere you ever want to be."

Ezor's smile was replaced with a look of annoyance. 

"Geez sorry for trying to have a little fun in this metal box. I guess you guys don't care that I've been following Rosk for days now. Oh and you might want to keep an eye on him. Ambitious little guy has been planning a mutiny against the captain."

"What?" Lotor said sharply. "How do you know that?"

"Uh duh! Invisibility? Heard him talking with the pilots yesterday. They're not happy with you!" she said in a sing-song voice. 

Lotor's mind was reeling. The captain was loyal to Haggar, but still listened his orders and suggestions. But if Rosk took control? He repressed a shudder. Zethrid would be in trouble and he really would be a prisoner on his own ship. 

"How can we trust what she says?" Zethrid challenged, eyes still locked on the smaller girl. "I thought you hated us."

Ezor shrugged carelessly. 

"Sure I do. But as much as I hate you, this crew is worse. Better get cracking if you want to stop what's coming!"


End file.
